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Wednesday, July 13, 2016

My first #MidWeekTease #MWTease #TFToU @evernightpub

If you're here for the first time, welcome! I'm excited to join the #MidWeekTease blog hop. This week I'm sharing an excerpt from my debut novel THE FUNDAMENTAL THEORY OF US, out now from Evernight Publishing!Enjoy ;)

Andrew
shoved the stump of his leg into the prosthesis, pulled up the gator and the
sleeve, and pushed to his feet. Rosie stirred, her tag clinking against the
loop on her collar. In the dark, he saw the pleading in her soft brown eyes,
the glint of moonlight on her golden fur.

“What
do you say, girl? Should we go for a walk?”

Rosie
yipped, her tail slapping the floor. She didn’t get up yet. She waited. Part of
her training—anticipating Andrew’s needs and following orders. Rosie wasn’t an
ordinary dog. When he let her be herself, back home, she sure seemed it.
Rosie’s job was to be there for him. Andrew felt like shit for it in the
beginning, until he realized he needed her, just as much as she needed him. Or
maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. Damn it, he loved the girl.

He
grabbed the leash, still on the cushion beside him from earlier, and dangled
it. Rosie took the hint. Her nails clacked over the linoleum on her way over,
her tail making slow, happy swipes. She licked his hand, then nuzzled her head
at his fingers, and Andrew clipped the leash to her collar. Grabbing a bag and
a bottle of water for the walk had become second nature since he got Rosie, who
was also his first pet. Not even a goldfish or a worm in his past.

Rosie,
eager to get going, let out a louder-than-necessary bark in the hall. Andrew
cringed. This place had a strict “no pets allowed” policy, however the owner
made an exception for him, as a fellow veteran. They fought in different wars
but the respect, honor, and inexorable bond between two people who saw the kind
of things civvies could never understand.

Then
it happened. The click of a lock. Creak of a door. A shaft of dim light speared
the space between the door and the darkness inside the apartment. He knew who
lived there. He had known for months, though he never actually saw her coming
or going until yesterday.

Sawyer’s
face peeped through the crack, her sleep-rumpled cheeks and hair familiar to
him. He’d never seen her this way before. Though not a stranger to
sleeplessness, he recognized it in others. They looked like they’d been asleep
for a century and just rolled out of hibernation mode, when in fact, their eyes
were shut but no sleep came.

“Hey,”
he said, keeping the Golden Retriever’s leash tight. Some people had dog fears.
“Sorry if she woke you.”

Sawyer
blinked, her soulful brown eyes hazed in confusion and shot through with red.
Then she said, “You know there’s a no pet rule here, right?”

“You
got me.” Andrew surprised himself. He didn’t joke. Not with anyone. There was something
about Sawyer that brought out a side of him long buried. “I’m an undercover cop
and Rosie’s my drug-sniffing dog.”

Sawyer’s
pretty lips twitch into a smile, the first one he had seen on her. “Where’s
your badge?”

“I’m
off duty.” Rosie’s tail thwapped his
leg. “I’m just taking her for a walk. Want to join us?” The words were out of
his mouth before he realized.

Her
dark eyes shot wide, a thread of something there he couldn’t quite read. Fear?
Longing? Hope? “I should probably get back to bed,” she said, and Rosie
interrupted her with an argument of her own. She pulled on the leash, almost
dragging Andrew to Sawyer, then gave Sawyer’s hand the same treatment she had
given him on the day he met the dog, eight months ago.

Which
told Andrew two things: the first, Sawyer was in pain, which he already knew,
but this pain ran deeper than he suspected, and second, Sawyer probably needed
Rosie more than he did.

Rosie
pressed her head under Sawyer’s hand, forcing her to scratch behind the ear.
When she got what she wanted, the traitor dog slumped against Sawyer’s leg, and
Andrew noticed it was bare. Miles and miles of smooth, light tan skin, to the
hem of her shorts. And hell, they were short
shorts. Barely shorts. A little strip of fabric, a couple stitches of thread,
and some elastic holding it all in place. Andrew glanced up and caught the wary
look in her eyes.